The Great Hall was too hot with people dancing wildly without abandon to the music that Draco didn't like. Arms were flung everywhere with legs flung in the opposite direction filling the already limited space. Draco could see his date for the evening, Pansy Parkinson, dancing with Theodore Nott in the middle of the room. This didn't bother him as he hadn't wanted to go with Pansy anyway. It would have looked weird for him to come without a date considering his reputation as the Slytherin Sex Symbol. This was a falsely gained title but he never felt that he needed to correct anyone when they quoted this.
His tie was strangling him slightly so he loosened it even though he never would have done normally. Normally he hated anything looking anything less than perfect including his clothes – even though, he realized, no other boy his age cared. As the green tie hung looser round his neck the music seemed to get quieter but he'd already had enough. Draco hurried from the room, grabbing a glass of the spiked punch as he went, and wandered out into the Entrance Hall. All around the portraits were dancing in their frames, clearly enjoying the night where they didn't have to act like they would have when they were alive. They did however stop when Draco looked at them and blushed before mostly disappearing from their frames.
For a minute Draco wondered whether he should go back to the common room or his dormitory and do some work or get an early night. However the common room would be full of little annoying children, too young to be invited to the party, and he wasn't really all that tired. He could wander, go and visit Myrtle or something but that was somehow a very unappealing offer to him. He was still unbearably hot and so Draco swung open the front doors and stepped out into the cool night air.
Whose stupid idea had it been to have a "Welcome-back-to-school-especially-to-those-who-are-in-their-eighth-year-party!" anyway? He had decided to come back to do his eighth year because he had an ambition in life that you could only get through hard work and good grades. Draco scuffed his usually polished to perfection shoes in the dirt as he walked along, hands in his pockets. He came to a stone bench by a rose bush and sat down before resting his head on his hands.
He didn't hear them approach but he noticed at once when they sat down next to him on the bench. He peeked from under his glasses at the person who had dared sit down with him and was surprised to see it was none other than Harry Potter. Potter looked over and saw his evidently not so subtle glances and said, "Alright, Malfoy?"
Draco flushed a deep red at being caught looking and for a second took deep breaths to try and compose himself. When he finally had he mumbled, "Yeah, I'm alright, what about you Potter?"
"I'm alright. Just a little bored of that ball to be honest as dancing totally isn't my thing and I am rubbish at it. I expect you are quite the expert though, right?" Harry asked sounding interested not sarcastic.
"I've been taking dancing lessons since I could walk, Potter, so I'd say so," he said.
"Teach me," Harry said.
For a second Draco thought he couldn't have possibly have heard him right and just looked at Harry. Then he realized that he had heard right and it also wasn't a joke and said, "What?"
"I want to know how to dance Draco and unless you see someone else out here who is qualified to teach me then I would rather like it if you would. Come on, please?" Harry said with a smile. Draco was stunned; why would his worst enemy be asking for his help?
But then he slowly he got to his feet, as did Harry, and they stood a metre or so apart in front of each other. Draco closed the gap and placed a hand on his shoulder and took Harry's hand with the other one. Harry's hand found his waist and he noticed the small smile that lingered on the dark haired boy's lips. Then Draco made them dance and soon they were whirling around without a care in the world smiling and laughing happily. However the dance had to end and then they were just standing in each other's arms with a grimace on their faces.
"Sometimes..." Harry said slowly with a small nostalgic smile on his lightly tanned face, "I wonder whether, if my parents had survived the first war, whether they would have put me through all that pureblood stuff or whether my mother would want me to do more muggle things."
"I reckon your parents would have wanted you to do whatever you wanted," Draco said, "They would have loved you."
They were still close, still pressed in the same position for dancing, with Draco's breath ghosting over Harry's lips. Harry searched the grey eyes, wondering if it could really be that the boy he had once hated so much, could have just said something that meant so much. As he watched however he noticed that the boy hadn't changed at all but maybe – just maybe – it didn't matter any more.
Finally he could press his own lips against Draco's with the conviction he needed and knew that when he went back to the ball he would have someone he could dance all night long with.